


who will tell (the story of your life?)

by Jace_Diaz_Of_Hell



Category: marvel suggestion blogs
Genre: Multi, i made this for my blog valkyriesuggests, this is my longest one shot ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 06:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19762876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jace_Diaz_Of_Hell/pseuds/Jace_Diaz_Of_Hell
Summary: the life of an asgardian, split neatly into quarters.





	who will tell (the story of your life?)

There are four distinct phases in her life. 

**_brunnhilde_ **

**i.**

She is born in the early summer, to parents who love each other every way but romantically. This never bothers her or them. Her parents are the best of friends, and they each love her, and that is enough.

Her father is one of Odin’s personal guard, and her Mother is a Valkyrie. Her name means  _ ready for battle,  _ and if it fits, that’s only because it’s in her nature for it to fit. 

One day, after all, she is going to follow in her mother’s steps. She tells her mother this, when she’s five years old. and the lieutenant of the Valkyrior laughs, pulling the blanket up around her.

“Of course you will, my little warrior, but for now you need to sleep.”

**ii.**

The All-Father notices her when she is just a child. She is so distracted by fighting the boy in front of her that she does not hear his arrival. She doesn’t even take a cue from the way the bully freezes up, going entirely still- she just considers it her opening and punches him in the nose.

He crashes to the floor, immediately wailing, and Brunnhilde takes back the toy he had attempted to steal.

It’s silent except for the older boy still screaming, holding his bloody nose. And then she hears the slow applause and turns around, face-to-face with Crown Princess Hela, which means-

She looks up, and the King of Asgard stares down at her.

It’s not as if this is her first time in his presence, not with her parents being warriors, but her parents aren’t here right now and  _ she just punched the son of the captain of the guard in the face in front of ODIN- _

She doesn’t know what else to do except drop to her knee, the rag doll she won back still held tightly in her hands.

He speaks to her, face impassive.

“I’m assuming he took something of yours.”

Brunnhilde’s voice wavers when she answers.

“It’s okay. I took it back.”

Crown Princess Hela, a step behind her father, bursts out laughing. The All-Father chuckles, and Brunnhilde loses the nerve to speak.

The little princess darts out in front of her father and pulls Brunnhilde to her feet. 

“I like her, Father.” She says. “She’s my friend now.”

The All-Father nods, still looking at Brunnhilde.

“Your mother is one of my lieutenants, is she not?”

After a long moment, she nods, and the king smiles. 

“It looks as though you’ve inherited her talents. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

Brunnhilde nods again, speechless, and the procession continues. The Crown Princess drops her arm, hitches up her skirts, and chases after her father.

She looks back once, to wave at Brunnhilde, and Brunnhilde waves back.

**iii.**

The Princess actually meant what she said.

She makes an effort to hunt Brunnhilde down at social events, where Brunn is usually sitting between her parents.

As Brunnhilde grows older, she and the princess grow closer. Brunnhilde stops being terrified that she’s going to mess things up, and Hela watches with glee as Brunnhilde launches herself into one playground fight after another. 

And then, just before Brunnhilde becomes a teenager, her training for the Valkyrior begins. 

Her mother and father insist that she’s going to be stellar- she’s shown quite a penchant for defending people, after all, and she’s already in the good graces of the Crown, but Brunnhilde is so nervous she could just  _ scream. _

Even if she does pass the tests, the training will take a couple of centuries. Who knows how long it will be before she’s a full-fledged Valkyrie?

The morning of initiation, her mother presents her with armor. Crafted with clear love and purpose, and charmed to grow as she does.

An hour later, the girl entered the training grounds in full armor, a smile shining brightly on her face.

**iv.**

It is two hundred years later when, nearing her young adulthood, Brunnhilde is given a sister. 

She is sweaty, her armor dingy from being run through hours and hours of practice on the training grounds, and there’s a black eye swelling up when she and her father are allowed to enter the room.

Her mother proudly displays the baby girl, swaddled and blinking slowly.

“Her name is Unn.” Brunnhilde’s mother says.

Unn.  _ The beloved one. _

Brunnhilde looks her infant sister in the face and knows her name to be true, because she already loves this baby so much it feels like her heart will burst.

**v.**

Unn is a little menace, and Brunnhilde adores her. Her mother can’t watch Unn- being so high up in the Valkyrior hardly allows for things such as that- and the duty falls to Brunnhilde, who brings Unn  _ everywhere. _

Hela complains sometimes, but Brunnhilde knows the princess doesn’t care, because any time Hela sees the baby she snatches her out of Brunn’s arms.

Unn quickly grows to be a vast part of Brunnhilde's life. She lies in the grass while Brunnhilde trains, she’s the first thing Brunnhilde checks on at home.

Her parents are almost never around these days- father busy with Odin and his people, Mother busy rising through the ranks of the Valkyries. So at times it felt like it was just Hela, Unn, and Brunnhilde. 

And, as Brunnhilde watched Hela bounce Unn on her lap, she wondered if that would really be so bad.

**vi.**

Brunnhilde’s not quite an adult when she has the best- and worst- revelation in her young life. 

They’re at some sort of celebration, and Hela is tugging at her curled updo and smoothing her dress repeatedly as though it’s far too uncomfortable. Brunnhilde knows the feeling- the silvery dress she’s wearing feels both far too loose and far too restrictive at the same time, and not for the first time she wonders if she should have let Hela’s idea to wear trousers there come to fruition. She’d certainly be more comfortable. 

Hela gives her a look across the room as the tables begin to clear, to make way for dancing. She rolls her eyes and half-smirks, easily sidesteps one of the men attempting to get her attention, and started crossing the room to her.

The room felt too hot suddenly and Brunnhilde had to rub her palms on her skirt, and then it hit her.

_ Oh no,  _ she thought distantly.  _ I’ve fallen in love. _

Hela took her hand as the first notes began to play, and Brunnhilde let herself be lead onto the dance floor.

Hela leaned in close so as not to be heard over the music and whispered,

“So you’ve finally caught on?”

Brunnhilde laughed, and that was that.

**vii.**

Turned out that having working parents was a lot harder on a toddler than it was on a near-adult who understood all the circumstances.

Unn was almost nervous around their parents when they were in the same room together, but she would bawl whenever they left. It was so confusing to Brunnhilde.

And then, one day, Unn burst into tears again, her childhood heartbreak so clear, and she went right to Brunnhilde and Hela. Hela waited, silent and startled, while Brunnhilde calmed Unn down enough to be coherent.

Once the toddler was down to just sniffles, she looked up at Brunnhilde. 

“Wish you were my real mommy.” She whispered sleepily. “ You don't leave.”

**viii.**

Brunnhilde is an adult when it happens. At a feast to celebrate a recent victory, and a time for peace, no less. 

Her father is following behind Odin, leading the position of the guards, and Unn is chattering excitedly and Hela's hand is warm in hers under the table and everything is perfect.

And then it's not, because there's a whirl of movement and an angry yell and then her father is bleeding on the floors of the celebration room. 

Her mother is over the table in an instant, at her best friends side as she comforts him, and all Brunnhilde can do is stare at  _ so much blood- _

And then Unn screams, and it snaps Brunnhilde out of her stupor.

A figure with bloody hands is slipping out of the room and Brunnhilde launches herself over the table, sprinting. 

She's out the door in seconds, chasing the man down the halls, muscles burning. 

Her gaze goes red as she seizes the killers cloak and knocks him to the ground. And then she's pinning the man down- and she recognizes him, she took early training courses with him, and there is so much  _ rage _ burning inside her.

So she punches him. And then again. And again. And again.

Until she's dragged off of the man by her mother while she starts screaming, because her father died during a peace celebration and the person who killed him is only going to get locked up.

Odin praises her “quick thinking” and “acting in the face of disaster.” He says she's ready to join the Valkyrie for real, and then the feast continues as if nothing happened.

Hela finds Brunnhilde after, and washes the blood off of her hands. When the princess kisses her, it is hard and grounding and tastes like salt because of the tears Brunnhilde is still crying. Brunnhilde closes her eyes and tries to feel anything but numb.

**ix.**

Turns out being a Valkyrie isn't all it's cracked up to be. 

It's the same training, but with more force and less instructors. It's occasional errands such as serving a meal in the Feast Hall of the Slain ( and it's such a treat to do that, because she gets a glimpse of her father every once in a while and he's so proud of her it makes her choke). 

And, rarely, they are sent on missions involving danger. 

The first time she leaves, her mother gives her a dagger. It's carved intricately, clearly ancient, and she cuts her finger when she touches the tip. Her mother tells her it's been passed down from mother to firstborn for generations in their family.

Brunnhilde wonders if she will someday have a child to give the dagger to.

Unn bawls and begs her not to go, but when she is calm she gives Brunnhilde the smoothest rock she found by the water and solemnly tells her it's a lucky charm. Brunn tucks it in her pocket. 

Hela, who was forbidden to go, doesn't speak to her. 

When Brunn shows up a week later, on the verge of exhaustion with a bloody gash on her face, Hela looks so angry she could burn the world down.

She cleans the bloody wound before storming out. When she comes back, she's wrangled a promise from her father to be allowed on missions- at his side and at Brunnhilde's.

**x.**

Unn is a child now, no longer a toddler.

She climbs into bed and picks up her rag doll.

“I'm gonna be just like you and mom when I'm older.” She announces.

Brunn thinks about the blood she has yet to wash off her armor and wonders if this is how her mom felt when Brunnhilde was a child, all quiet horror and like her mouth was sealed. 

She wishes she could tell her sister to be anything else- a sorceress, a cook,  _ anything- _ but when her mouth opens all she says is “sure you will. After some sleep.”

**xi.**

She misses the simple times with Hela. These days, it's all battling. Even when it's quiet, peacetime and nights in each other's arms, Hela is planning the next attack. And the next. And the one after that.

It's tiring, Brunn tells her. Hela laughs and tells her to go to sleep.

**xii.**

Brunnhilde feels like she's drifting away from all she knows- from duties she had once craved, from the gentle touches of her mother, and now her girlfriend is going down a path that Brunnhilde cannot follow.

One day, after a battle where Brunnhilde holds one of the other new recruits as she dies, it all shatters. 

She is lying on the bed in Helas room, staring at the ceiling while her girlfriend writes. She thinks of the redhead, choking on air that refused to enter her lungs, and her heart aches.

“Will there ever be peace?” She asks suddenly. Hela makes a questioning noise in the back of her throat, and Brunnhilde launches up off the bed, suddenly close to tears.

“I mean… aren't you tired of this, Hela?” She asks. “Are we ever going to have a chance to just live our lives again?”

Hell's face softens, and she reaches out to catch Brunnhilde's hand. 

“Of course we will.” 

“ _ When _ ?” Brunn demands, and then she is crying. “When is it going to be over? When is the fighting done?”

“When we've conquered.” Hela says. Her voice is definite, but her tone is confused. And it hits Brunnhilde that Hela doesn't  _ want _ peace, not truly. 

“I can't wait that long.” Brunnhilde says, and walks out.

Hela doesn't stop her. 

**xiii.**

It takes a decade, but Odin eventually catches on to the same revelation Brunnhilde had. And that’s when things  _ really  _ go bad.

There’s a battle. Hela’s warriors against Odin’s, which includes Valkyrie. So many of Hela’s warriors - the Berserkers- die, but that doesn’t stop Hela. Many of Odin’s warriors die (and that includes Brunnhilde’s mom, and nearly Brunnhilde herself)- and that doesn’t stop Odin either.

Hela makes it into Asgard’s inner halls, and to Odin himself. When Brunnhilde hears the news later, through her teenage sister’s knowledge acquired by palace staff, she doesn’t know what to feel.

Hela, banished to the realm of the dead. Her sister tells her that it’s over, that Brunnhilde can finally let go, but there is a crawling feeling of dread in her stomach.

Hela is, and always has been, so ambitious. She’s known what she wanted ever since she was a child and she was never afraid to go after it. She’s going to get loose again, one day.

Unn tells her not to worry so much, but that worry only increases when Unn- sweet, beautiful,  _ soft  _ Unn, announces her training for the Valkyries begins in a week.

Odin needs to rebuild the fallen troops, after all.

**xiv.**

Centuries pass. Unn grows older. She joins the Valkyrie as a full-fledged member. She gets married to another Valkyrie, and Brunnhilde is witness to the ceremony. 

Unn complains about the lack of fighting, but for Brunnhilde it’s a much needed peace time. They still have their duties to the warriors in Valhalla, and plenty of rebuilding the nine realms to keep them busy. Odin, after all, is busy with that newborn son of his, Thor. 

Brunnhilde watches as the Asgardian Royal Family steadily destroys any trace of Hela, and a sneaking cynicism rises in her as she watches the newer generations grow up knowing nothing about the ex-Princess. But things seem to be okay, and Odin and Frigga aren’t the only ones who want to forget.

And then it happens.

Hela tries to break free.

**xv.**

Odin tells them it will be easy, and the Valkyrie believe him. They’re all so young, so full of optimism, and all Brunnhilde feels is dread because she  _ knows  _ what Hela is capable of, more than anyone else.

As they gather on the Bifrost, straddling steeds (and Aragorn is such a comfort to be here. He’s been  _ hers  _ since he was a foal; he’s been here through it all), Unn and her wife whisper excitedly. Brunnhilde catches snippets.

_ Real mission… Finally, some action… Piece of cake… _

And the Bifrost swallows them, and Brunnhilde draws her sword and prepares. 

**xvi.**

It is horrible. It is bloody and awful and it will haunt her for the rest of her days. 

The Necroswords appearing, the cold calculation in Hela’s eyes as she looked directly at Brunnhilde. Then the blood. The screams of her shield-sisters, the horror of Aragorn’s wings going still and dropping, falling from the sky. Watching hundreds of thousands of warriors dying. 

Stumbling across the field to hold Unn, gasping her last.

( _ Brunn, I’m scared, please please make it better I don’t want to die- Brunn  _ **_please-)_ **

Holding her sister. Singing the old lullaby to her, about the morning after Ragnarok, when the world is at peace and ready to rebuild. Feeling her body go limp, seeing the life leave her eyes.

Picking up her sword and charging at Hela, because if she couldn’t save them, she could at least die too. 

And her sister-in-law getting struck down in front of her.

Hela  _ leaving,  _ the bodies of so many women scattered at the entrance to Helheim like debris, like  **garbage.**

And all Brunnhilde could do was run.

**_scrapper 142_ **

**i.**

She tries to return to Asgard, she really does. But everywhere she looks, she sees reminders of the things she lost. The fields where Unn liked to play as a child. The home where they grew up, happy and loved. Every time she looks at the shining Palace, she remembers setting off on that final mission.

She hates Hela. She hates Odin. 

She’s not sure who to blame- Hela’s ambition, or Odin’s foolish choice of sending them to die. He  _ knew  _ none of them were a match for Hela. 

She can’t stay anymore. 

She brings precious few things- the dagger her mother pressed into her palm before her first mission. The portait of her and Unn, commissioned for Brunnhilde’s coming of age. She wishes she had something to remind her of her father. 

And then she leaves. 

Heimdall, bless his heart, opens the Bifrost for her and she steps through, swearing on Yggdrasil itself that she’d rather throw herself in Ginnungagap than return to Asgard. 

Too bad she doesn’t have a particular destination in mind. 

**ii.**

The world is dark for a while, and empty. She falls- for how long, she doesn’t know.

When she opens her eyes, she is strapped into a chair. Everything she owns is gone- even the smooth stone in her pocket given to her by Unn so many centuries before. 

The world lights up around her, as though sensing the change in breathing. And some sort of … illusion speaks to her.

"Fear not, for you are found. You are home, and there is no going back. No one leaves this place. But what is this place? The answer in Sakaar. Surrounded by cosmic gateways, Sakaar lives on the edge of the known and unknown. It is the collection point for all lost and unloved things. Like you. But here on Sakaar, you are significant. You are valuable. Here, you are loved."

As soon as Brunnhilde hears the words “fear not” she starts to get a little cagey. By the time she hears the words  _ lost and unloved,  _ she’s ready to punch someone’s teeth out.

"And no one loves you more than the Grandmaster. He is the original. The first lost, and the first found. The creator of Sakaar and the father of the Contest of Champions. Where once you were nothing, now you are something. You are the property of the Grandmaster. Congratulations! You will meet the Grandmaster in five seconds. Prepare yourself. Prepare yourself. You are now meeting the Grandmaster."

__

She’s attempting to free a hand so she can get just one good punch in. Just one. But its too late. She’s face to face with some man standing there in robes and a benevolent smile.

She swears if she just left Asgard and got taken to some dumb mimic of it she  _ will  _ kill the nearest person who lets her have the ability to escape.

The man looks her up and down, shudders distastefully, and speaks to her.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

And she barks out a laugh.

“I could use more than just one.”

**iii.**

So the Grandmaster brings her a drink, and asks what her story is in a tone that implies he doesn’t especially  _ care  _ to hear it but he’s going to hear it anyways because he can. She just downs the drink, wincing at the slight burn in the back of her throat (but grateful all the same- she hardly drank back at home, but given the various states of drunkenness she saw people here in she figured that would change) and decided to make the story as brief as possible. 

“My crazy ex-girlfriend killed everyone I knew in a battle and I ran away after.” She says. Period. End of story. 

… Except the word  _ battle  _ seems to have piqued his interest. Dammit. 

“Ah, so you’re a warrior! Let me tell you more about the Contest of Champions.”

Next thing she knows, she’s in a new and unfamiliar arena, sword and shield in her hands, facing down someone twice her size. 

They cut her hair off. Shear it short, almost like a buzz cut. She grits her teeth and puts up with it.

**iv.**

It takes exactly two weeks before she’s the champion in the arena. No one dies, fortunately, because Brunnhilde (or “Scrapper” as the Grandmaster has decided to call her) is sick and tired of death. She’s perfectly okay with kicking people’s asses and recieving “credits” and free drinks in return. 

Granted, she spends three quarters of the time drunk off her ass, but isn’t that better than waking up screaming, reaching for a sister she could never save?

**v.**

It becomes boring after a year or so, because Scrapper can never stick to a routine, and with no one being Asgardian or better, it is rapidly becoming routine.

She keeps doing it though, because she’s been fighting people since she was four years old and this is what she’s good at. This ache from sore muscles, this constant hangover, those are pains she could deal with.

But the Sakaarans apparently don’t deal with boredom half as well as she does, because it’s a scant few weeks after she decides she’s bored that she gets promoted. 

“The people need something new,” The Grandmaster says to her. “They need to be entertained; which, not that you’re not entertaining-” he winks at her and she stares blankly, unsure how to react- “but they need someone who can lose every once in a while. Not just an uncontested champion.”

She’s a little confused and  _ very  _ drunk, but she somewhat gets the point.

“So… what do you want me to do?” She asks. “Throw a match? Because I can’t do that. Those people couldn’t beat me if I was half-dead with one hand held behind my back.”

She’s not sure why she sasses off to the Grandmaster like this; she’s seen people get executed for less than that here. But he does what he always does- gives her a little half-smirk, like she’s some particularly interesting creature he’s decided to waste his time on.

“No, Scrapper, I’m not asking you to throw a contest. That would be absolutely ridiculous. I’m asking you to get more recruits  _ for  _ the contest. In return, you get the obedience disk removed and updated to a better suite, not what we have saved for the fighters.”

The promise of not getting shocked if she’s a little too drunk to react properly works perfectly, and she’s agreeing before she knows it.

When she leaves the room it’s with a bottle of scotch in hand, a new job she’s sure she can do, and the numbers 142 tacked onto her new name.

**vi.**

Her hair starts to grow out again, curling around her ears in tiny waves. She can’t wait until she can pull it into a ponytail again. 

In the meantime, the girlish haircut goes a long way towards potential recruits grossly underestimating her. All they see is smiles and sweet talking, and then they’re walking into the arena while she sits and drinks and waits for approval from the Grandmaster. 

Her life is a cycle. Recruiting, drinking, watching the fight, over and over and over. It’s enough to drive anyone mad, let alone her.

Which is why she starts talking to one of the other scrappers. He’s lower rank than 142, but he tells entertaining stories, and has soft hands. When she drags him behind a pillar and kisses him at one of the countless celebrations, his mouth tastes vaguely like some fruity cocktail they were serving earlier on.

He’s dead two weeks later. Executed for sassing off to the Grandmaster. She marvels at how idiotic people can be, then tosses out a casual retort to one of his comments, ignoring the fact that she doesn’t ever listen to her own advice. 

**vii.**

Eventually the nightmares fade, dulled by centuries of alcohol and constantly inserting herself into reckless situations. She’s started to forget the way her father’s laugh sounded when he came home. She can’t quite picture her mother’s hands curved around quill or sword as easily as she used to. 

It’s funny, though, how those things fade, and yet she still wakes up in the middle of the night wondering  _ When was the last time someone checked on Unn? _

And then one night she wakes up, reaching out to steady her teenage sister from a fall, and her hands find only empty air. 

The next morning finds her working her way steadily through her entire liquor cabinet. 

**viii.**

The Grandmaster tells her she is his top Scrapper. He says she’s brought in more recruits than anyone and asks her how she does it. She grits her teeth and summons up a smile.

“I’m stronger than they are. If they don’t want to come with me I make them.”

He walks away impressed and Scrapper 142 walks away a liar. She’s never taken a person against their will.The other Scrappers do, and their recruits always lose in the Arena. 142’s always have the upper hand.

They ask her how her recruits beat any of theirs, even when they’re clearly outmatched. 142 drains her vodka and tells them to just stop being dumbasses and they’ll start getting better recruits.

What she really means is,  _ pick the ones like yourselves. The ones who have no reason to stick around their homeplace, the ones who barely even have a reason to keep breathing. The people who don’t care are always more dangerous than the ones who do. _

**ix.**

She is several thousand years out from the Incident(Sakaaran time- real time, it's only been about a thousand) when she meets the Hulk. He’s angry that she stumbled across him and gets in a fight with her.

They throw each other around and trade punches. 142 gets hit in the head a couple of times. When the match is over and she’s still on her feet, the big guy talks to her. 

He tells her in simple words how the people back on Midgard (  _ Terra,  _ 142’s mind corrects, ever trying to escape her Asgardian roots) hate him. How not even his team appreciates him. That they’re all just afraid of him.

And 142 smiles.

“I know a place where you would be loved instead of feared.” She says, reaching out her hand. “Respected instead of hated.”

He looks at her to see if she is lying, and his hand completely envelopes her smaller one. 

_ ( “What have you brought me this time, 142?” Asks the Grandmaster, and 142 throws her head back and smiles.  _

_ “A champion.” She says. There’s doubtful muttering. There hasn’t been a champion in a long time. “You’re going to love him.” _

_ Hulk smiles. ) _

  
  


After that, she’s given a new ship and she relaxes, decides to put her feet up for a couple decades. Drink some more, spar with the Hulk. Hell, maybe even join in on some of the stuff going down on the Orgy ships. She’s only ever flown them before, never participated.

Unfortunately for her, the Norns have other plans. 

**xi.**

She’s wasted. The Grandmaster has her on some sort of paltry, keep-busy mission they both know he couldn’t care less about, but she doesn’t mind doing it anyways.

She’s taken care of the errand and is headed back home with several bottles of wine at her side, several more back in holding for the Grandmaster (because he loves presents and there’s something charismatic about seeing him smile, something that makes her want to be the cause of that more… Or maybe she’s just drunk and in a good mood, fuck it.)

And suddenly there’s a sort of crackling along her skin that 142 hasn’t felt in thousands of years, not since-

Her head snaps downwards to the ground, and a litany of curses spills out of her mouth.

There is an Asgardian on the surface of Sakaar, being surrounded by several of the Scavengers. 142’s mind races. 

( _ How long has it been, does he know what I am, who is he-) _

He throws a Scrapper and then throws his hand out, and 142  _ knows  _ what he’s looking for. That hammer. Once Hela’s, now his.

Well,  **_fuck,_ ** 142 thinks, and takes the ship down. 

Between the child prince now grown and the Jötun who’s been hanging around for weeks now, it seems her past is trying to catch up to her.

**_Fuck_ ** that, she thinks, and opens the hatch.

All eyes turn towards 142 as she climbs out and takes a swig of her drink. 

“He’s mine.” She announces after dropping the bottle down, and promptly collapses off the edge of the ramp.

But she kicks their asses ten seconds later, so that doesn’t matter.

Shreds of clothes flutter down, and Odin’s son looks her in the eyes and thanks her. She hasn’t been genuinely thanked since Asgard, and it leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

Instead of replying, she sticks an obedience disk to his neck and knocks him the hell out. 

The next time he wakes up, he isn’t thanking her.

**xii.**

She gets a few blessed minutes of silence while he’s unconsious. Which she spends formulating a plan. It’s a good plan too. Say nothing about being Asgardian. Hide her tattoo from the Valkyrior. Stay wasted and continue feigning ignorance until he dies in the Contest of Champions or decides to leave her alone.

She turns on her comm as she approaches the palace.

“This is Scrapper 142. I need clearance and an audience with the boss. I’ve got something special."

The words are easy, rolling off her tongue the way they have a hundred times or more.

  
" _ Hey _ ! Where are you taking me? Answer me!”

_ Oh, fuck. He's awake. Stick to the plan, 142.  _

“Hey! I am Thor, son of Odin. I need to get back to Asgard."

And then before she can control it, her dumbass mouth takes over.

  
"Many apologies, your majesty.”

She tazes him into unconsciousness again before she has to deal with any reprecussions of that.

_ Well. Failed step one. Better get a good price off him and get him off your hands. _

**xiii.**

“What have you brought me today? Tell me."

142 smirks. The same old play of give and take, circling around. Putting on a show.

  
"A contender."

( _ “You'll pay for this!” The child prince-grown yells later, and 142 laughs.  _

_ “No. I got paid for this.”) _

**xiv.**

Not too long till the battle. Child Prince versus Hulk. Contender versus Champion.

It was the best 142 could have hoped for. 

If only the damn prince would just ignore her already. 

She blows out the flame on the bottle she's given and drains a third of it before she hears Thor's shocked, almost reverent whisper.

“My God, you're a Valkyrie!”

**_Valkyrie_ **

**i.**

She goes on an adventure, because whenever two or more Asgardians are around each other some kind of adventure begins. Its science. 

She helps the young prince and his brother and his friend escape Sakaar, and she decides to try and stop drowning out her past and flees with them. 

She faces Hela again, and Hela is every bit as beautiful and terrifying and deadly as she remembers. And then its over. Asgard is in ruins. And even though she hasn't called it her home for a thousand years, her heart aches to see it go up in flames. 

**ii.**

She finds that she still can't stay in New Asgard. She tries, she really does, but there's an itch in her skin and an urge to run that she just can't ignore. 

A week later finds her wandering aimlessly around a country called America. 

She gets drunk. She sleeps around. She dates a bartender named Shamrock and a woman named Leia. 

And then she meets Loki- a different one than she had known, one who doesn't hide the fact that they're jötun. And they make her laugh, with bad puns and even worse flirts, so before she knows it they’re added to her list of maybe-dating maybe not. A week later they make a bad pun and she decides fuck it, they’re definitely dating. 

**Iii.**

Somehow, Loki ends up with three hundred and eighty eight eggs that will become children. Somehow, said eggs get stolen. Valkyrie steals them back, easily, and Loki decides she’s a co-parent. 

She doesn’t know how long the eggs will take to hatch, but Loki’s drunk declaration gets her thinking. Only for a moment.

Then she laughs and shrugs it off, downing a glass of vodka.  _ Her?  _ A  _ mother?  _ Ridiculous. She’d be terrible at it, wouldn’t she?

(In the back of her mind she remembers her sister whispering  _ i wish you were my real mommy,  _ and she maybe gets far drunker than normal that night. )

  
  


So. She’s not really sure how it happens. She makes a drunk joke about all the weddings going on and how long it will be before she ends up getting married, and Loki says something about making a point to Balder, and the next morning she wakes up with an engagement ring on her finger. 

The Grandmaster approaches her not too long after that and Valkyrie almost jumps out of her skin, but he doesn’t seem to care about the incident where she stole two of his ships and blew up the one he gave to her, so she relaxes. Turns out all he wants is to offer her a joint wedding with Loki, which she accepts, because the Grandmaster has always been attractive and Sakaar would make for an excellent place to be married. 

Then there’s some confusion about whether it was actually a proposal or just an offer to have her wedding along with theirs. It turns out to be a proposal, so Valkyrie has two fiancees. 

_ That’s cool,  _ she thinks, and then spends half the night grinning like a fool. 

**v.**

Her horse shows up again. Aragorn. 

He was dead and now he’s not and all Valkyrie can do is cry and hold onto him, her fingers tangled around his mane. Then she goes on a flight with him, her first real flight in a thousand years, fuck spaceships, and its  **_brilliant._ ** There’s nothing like it, and she forgot just how  _ excellent  _ it feels to be thousands of feet in the air, the wind blowing in her face so hard she can barely breathe. 

She doesn’t need to do anything that night- she’s high enough already. 

**vi.**

So, with the wedding on the horizon, it’s probably time that Valkyrie settles down somewhere. She considers going back to Sakaar, then thinks against it, because as much as she loves that garbage planet and the person in charge of it, she’s not quite sure she wants to live there again. 

  
  


Loki invites her to move in with them, and she accepts, and then the Midgardian he’s living with protests the fact that there will be a new person and a horse living there. Valkyrie decides she’s going to build a barn, and argues with the Midgardian about something called zoning laws, which gets settled when she compromises to make it look like part of the house. 

It’s only after all of that is settled that her and Darryl (the Midgardian) get a proper introduction. 

He seems like a bit of a stickler for rules, but she promises to pay her rent and not cause too much chaos, so he seems to be fine with her. 

**vii.**

It’s shortly before her wedding when she gets sick. Violently sick, with vomiting and dizziness and she  _ hates it.  _ But it sticks, so it’s not some fleeting spell or Midgardian illness, so she goes to have tests done. 

And loses her shit, because she’s  _ pregnant.  _ She’s going to be a fucking mom.  _ Soon,  _ too soon, because Asgardian pregnancies are unpredictable enough when its two Asgardians. And this is either an Asgardian and a jotun, or an Asgardian and an immortal obeing. 

And she’s fucking  **_terrified,_ ** but she tries to handle it well. She stops drinking the minute she finds out, makes arrangements to tell her fiancees. She’s convinced that she’s going to be a terrible mom. Everyone else seems convinced she’s going to be good, or at least decent. 

And then, a week before her wedding, a baby of unspecified age appears on the doorstep. He’s anywhere from three to six months old, and he blinks tiny brown eyes at her and waves his pudgy hands. 

Valkyrie is bringing him inside the house before she knows it, and naming him Icarus Bruce Valsson with Leia, and then it hits her.

_ She’s a fucking mom now.  _

**_Mom_ **

  
  


**i.**

Okay, so. It’s scary, but she’s managing it. She’s really missing the drinking, what with the wedding planning going on- somehow they have to convince Darryl to sit in a flamingo crate while he’s apparently allergic to flamingos (she never finds out if they do.), and theres fittings for her dress and appointments for the baby, while they run tests to determine whether it’s Loki’s or the Grandmasters. 

They determine it's Loki's, and then the day after that Val can't seem to get warm, so she wonders if the tests were a complete waste of time. 

But she doesn't waste time thinking about it- there are more important things to think of. Like her wedding. 

**ii.**

This is the first time in forever that Val has been sober and glad of it. The headdress makes her neck ache, but she looks wonderful, and she feels even better. 

One of the many universes Thors give her away. A hulk officiates her wedding. It's a huge extravaganza, and so is the night afterwards.

Val comes to, sleepy and almost delirious with how happy she is, just in time to convince Darryl to give her back the remote controlling the obedience disks before he accidentally stages a rebellion. 

**iii.**

It's a good thing they had the wedding when they did, because this pregnancy goes by rather quickly. They find out before too long that she's having a daughter. 

Before that, she gets a new child. Darryl takes Loki and the eggs out for a drive, and after a while Val gets concerned and goes after them. Loki is heatsick when they find her, and Val is utterly panicked about them and the eggs, but all turns out okay. 

Soon finds her the mother to a second child, a little dragon that Loki names Fafnir, and Val is absolutely enchanted.

**iv.**

Darryl "Ari" Hulk Lokidottir is born on September 23, 2018. They have to cut Val open to get her out, because she's bigger than Val can handle, and it hurts like fuck because the anesthesia keeps wearing off. 

And then her daughter is crying and she's  _ beautiful _ and looks like her other parent, but  _ they won't let Val hold her baby.  _

They won't listen to Val's desperate ramblings about how she's supposed to be blue, about how her other parent is, and  _ they're taking her away, _ and Val feels like crying.

Instead, she gets ahold of her spouse. 

An hour later they're back at home with Ari, and Val is stubbornly trying not to faint from the pain of her C-section on the taxi ride home. 

**v.**

Val spends the next month living in a blur. She takes the kids places. She meets a clone of Darryl, who goes by Dale. Some trauma happens to the eggs that Val isn't clear on, but Loki won't let anything near them, so Val brings Loki Ari and some alcohol and let's them know she's there. 

She fights in the contest of champions as soon as she's healed from the birth, and she finishes her work on the barn. 

The next time she meets Dale, he's suddenly three years old and looking at her and asking if she'll be his mommy, and Val can't do anything but say yes. 

Then there’s a brief stint where she busts Loki out of prison, and they spend a night on the beach, and its so wonderful she wonders if this can really be her life. 

**vi.**

She meets her next child in the beginning of January. He looks at her like he’s not sure if he should run away and he’s shaking like a leaf, so she makes herself smaller. It’s not hard to do- she’s only five foot four, and with two kids on her hips, she looks more like suburban soccer mom than formidable ex-warrior.

He introduces himself as Jacopo and it hits Val- this is the child from the future, the one Darryl said went through so much. She swears right then and there she isn’t going to scare this kid if her life depended on it. 

He tells her Loki is his mum, and she says her connection to Loki and tells him to call her Val if he doesn’t want her to be his mom. 

And she works on getting him to trust her. 

She doesn’t touch him unless he asks her to, and then its no longer than necessary- just enough to brush his hair. Just enough to bandage up his arms where he got distracted and scratched hard enough to bleed. 

She barely knows this child, but her heart breaks for him on a daily basis. He’s her son now and she wants to chase away the horrors of his past, but she can’t. Instead, she swears she’ll do her best to keep him from having any more trauma inflicted. 

**vii.**

Val doesn’t really know how to be gentle to these kids. It has been a thousand years since she’s known true gentleness, a thousand years since she was able to be tender (her sister’s eyes glaze over in front of her once more, and she settles her gently to the soil.)

She shakes her head to clear the memories away.

She might not ever be able to be gentle. She may always be rough, tough. She doesn’t know if she can’t be the gentle parent, but that might be okay.

If she can’t be the gentle parent, she will be the fierce one. She’ll be the one who chases away the people who upset or hurt her kids. She’ll be the one who kills their nightmares, who gives them harsh words of reassurance, who throws herself in the first line of defense. 

If she can’t give them quite the softness they need, she can be their protector. 

She will be. 

**viii.**

Barely a week after she makes that decision, she comes across her first challenge. There’s been a robot who was staying in the basement with them while his house was under construction. She’s not sure exactly what happens, but something that belongs to him gets taken because of Darryl.

The next thing she knows Darryl has a broken wrist, she’s threatening David out of the house, and they need to evacuate because of some rather vague threats that David made. 

The entire time Val is antsy, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for a disaster that will cost her her friend, or her spouse, or her kids. 

The disaster doesn’t happen. They move into Laura’s house for the next three weeks or so. Val disables all the smoke alarms because they make Jacopo upset. 

**ix.**

  
  


February is mostly peaceful. Its largely centered around her family, which feels like a nice change of pace. 

For Valentine’s Day (some terran holiday celebrating love) she gets each of her spouses a box of chocolates and a bottle of vodka with gold flakes in it. Loki gives them each alcohol. And the Grandmaster gives her a  _ planet.  _

Jacopo opens up to her more and more. And then one day he tells her he’s glad she’s there and he starts calling her  _ mom,  _ and Val manages not to cry in front of him. (She blames the alcohol instead of how touched she is. )

And then he’s in pain, and they don’t know why, so they take him to Asgard. Val is tense the entire time she’s there, worried about her son and hating being in this place both familiar and unfamiliar. 

Its not quite as bad as she’s worried it is, but it makes her pissed off beyond all belief at the thought of those bastards who hurt Jacopo.

His ribs were broken. Probably when he was a young kid, and then they never healed right. So now, because a group of people decided to be fucking evil, she has to convince her traumatized son to go into surgery to have it fixed.

Somehow, miraculously, she manages to, with the stipulation that she watch his surgery and hold Jackie- his stuffed elephant- for him. 

**x.**

March brings chaos. That’s the only way she can really describe it. 

It begins with Jacopo stumbling up the stairs, holding his side and frantically talking about Icarus and a knife and L.E.

She goes down to the basement to investigate, just because she highly doubts that the baby is in the basement with a knife (though she’s never sure. They are  _ her  _ kids, after all.)

And she finds a thirteen year old. Trying to pick a lock with a  _ dagger.  _ God, he really is her son.

He argues with them, looking frantic, looking  _ desperate  _ and Val wonders what this version of her son has gone through. He mentions Manhattan and a pocket dimension and a world ruled by L.E.

Val makes him go upstairs. As much as she doesn’t get along with L.E, she can’t have one of her kids trying to murder them. 

But, as she follows this new son up the stairs, she knows she wouldn’t trade it for anything else. 


End file.
